


Zine Works

by 1nvictu5



Category: Original Work, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Humor, LGBTQ Character, Multi, One-Shot, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-01 12:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13294782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1nvictu5/pseuds/1nvictu5
Summary: A collection of written works from fanzines I've participated in. I write under the pseudonymMonte Varrick.





	1. Things Fall Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After narrowly escaping the raid on their compound with the girl, Nemoto and Chrono hold up in a small cabin in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Written for the BNHA Villain Zine_

The little cabin that they now occupied was a decent size; nothing compared to the old estate, not that it had been anything of size or note. Truly, it shouldn’t have been worth noticing the size of the space considering that only three people currently occupied it, but he needed something to keep his mind busy as he stared blankly into the flames.

The little snot was asleep, still clinging to a piece of that ugly red cape, locked in a windowless room upstairs. Downstairs near the living room fireplace, Chrono worked what little magic he possessed with the pitiful energy he had left to patch up Nemoto’s wounds. Nemoto’s hysteria hadn’t completely subsided, but he was no longer the shaking, sobbing mess that he had been when Chrono had coaxed him from his quasi-coma.

“What do we do n – ahaha! Ow! - now?”

“We wait here until we’re told otherwise.”

“By who?”

“I don’t know, but Overhaul came up with this contingency, so we just have to trust his judgement and wait for whoever is supposed to come.”

“We shouldn’t be sitting around here – _ssss!_ \- doing nothing.”

It was safe to assume that any given member of the Eight Precepts was steadfast in their dedication to Overhaul and his vision, but Chrono had noted on more than one occasion that Nemoto’s reactions to Overhaul went a bit further than a feeling of solemn duty and gratitude.

“What do you suggest we do? Raid every jail in the area and hope we’re right?”

“I can’t just sit here,” Nemoto whined.

Nemoto’s voice cracked the same way it cracked late at night when he wandered the halls of the house sniffling to himself about those who’d wronged him. Chrono remembered those nights vividly. After being woken up by the quiet, ghostly wailing outside his bedroom window he’d find the other roaming about the courtyard in the dead of night quietly huffing and sobbing about a best friend and runaway fiancé or stolen money or some other commonplace but still disheartening misfortune, which he seemed to run the gamut of at a higher rate than normal.

It was no wonder Nemoto held Overhaul in such high esteem. Despite the clearly cruel nature of his plan, the mere fact that the Boss deigned to disclose the nature of the operation to Nemoto had lit within him a tenacious loyalty that defied human logic.

“Well, you’ll just have to be satisfied with doing nothing for the time being,” Chrono sighed.

“It’s all that damn brats fault. If she hadn’t…”

“This would have happened eventually anyway. Overhaul knew this and created this contingency. Exerting malice on a seven-year old won’t change anything.”

Nemoto growled at Chrono, and in response Chrono tugged a little harder than was necessary on the suture needle that was in Nemoto’s arm. The former growled harder.

“I wish you’d take that mask off. It makes you sound like a sick dog. Your real voice is much… _nicer_.”

“What did I say about saying stuff like that?”

“But it’s true.”

A light stirring sounded directly above them. The brat must have started to wake up, but neither of the young men moved. She was surely accustomed to waking up alone in a dark room, this would be no different. Nothing had changed.

That was lie. Everything was ruined. She knew that. Chrono knew it, too. He and Nemoto alone probably wouldn’t be able to catch her if she ever escaped again, and there were quite a lot of windows to climb out of. She held on so tightly to that scrap of cape; the thought of running away would certainly crossing her mind again, but Chrono didn’t too much care at this point if he was being honest with himself.

He finished stitching Nemoto’s arm and cleaned the scars on his head, and for a time they just sat there, Chrono staring at the side of Nemoto’s mask, Nemoto peering into the fire.

“Shin, look at me, please.”

“Stop using my first name. I’ve told you a hundred times. It didn’t mean anything.”

“It could if you let it.”

Chrono scooted closer until his knees were perched between Shin’s outspread legs bringing his hands up to unfastened the straps that kept that ugly mask on his face. Shin never flinched back nor pushed Chrono away or made any gesture that said that he was uncomfortable. The mask fell to the floor. Shin’s face was as lovely as Chrono remembered. From his warm amber skin to the velvety black curls that begged for fingers to be run through them; everything was just as perfect as it was then.

The feel of Hari’s long fingers wrapping around the back of his neck made Shin’s body quake with pleasure. He’d been so intently staring into the fire to quiet his mind, but now all the disparate thoughts came flooding back the moment Hari pressed himself on Shin. It was simultaneously the quickest and slowest moment of his life. The heat of the flames paled in comparison to the warmth radiating from Hari’s body. They’d both long since discarded their coats and shoes with shirts and pants the only remaining boundaries between them.

“Shin.” The sugary croon of his name made Shin’s skin tingle. Hari always had a way of doing that to him. His slender fingers found their way to Shin’s chin and brought his gaze up to Hari’s beautiful blue eyes.

It was like a jolt of lightning ignited his being every time he did. Using his good hand he pulled the other boy closer to him. Those lanky fingers were now tangled in his hair, massaging at his scalp, and Shin couldn’t help but melt into the sweetness of Hari’s lips. They sat there for some time wrapped in each other’s warmth.

Another rumble sounded overhead. There was an immediate spike in Hari’s heartbeat, and he quickly moved his hands down to unbutton Shin’s shirt.

“I’m just gonna go see what she’s up to,” Shin sighed as he broke the kiss.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Hari replied, “Maybe she just fell of the bed.”

But Shin had already risen and made his way to the stairs. Hari felt like he was going to have a heart attack. Everything went silent, and his muscles went stiff. The world seemed to slowly lose its color. With every step Shin took, Hari felt a little more of him wear away. He peered over his shoulder out of a window and watched as a little bundle of white hair disappeared into the nearby woods and wondered if he shouldn’t grab his coat and do the same. Before he could finish the thought the sound of Shin’s sneakers running back downstairs sent his heart into overdrive.

“The brat’s gone! She climbed out of one of the windows!”

Shin made for the coat rack shoving his hands into the pocket of his coat, erratically whispering to himself. He looked back at Hari, expecting him to come along. When Hari only stared back, a hard pang of disgust hit him like a train.

“Chrono? You didn't!?”

Hari managed to choke out, “Shin, come back. let me explain!” but Shin’s grimace made it practically unbearable to speak.

Before Hari could drag himself up of the floor, Shin was already out the door after Eri. A roar of thunder sounded as the door slammed shut.

Then the rain came.


	2. Gossip Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryukyu invites some of her fellow Pro Heroines and things go well. At first...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Written for the **Domestic BNHA Zine**_

Ryukyu had intended for this little get-together to be a bit of a breather for her and her fellow Heroines, but as she made her way back into the living room of her townhouse the palpable tension in the atmosphere and the strain of consternation on some of her guests faces told her that she may have misfired with one or two of those invites.

Ms. Joke’s usually amicable grin and hearty laughter was mysteriously absent. The Pussycats had sort of huddled together with her and Uwabami and all five sat scrunched up together on Ryukyu’s couch with their arms and hands tucked unnaturally close to themselves as if they feared a loss of limb. A much different arrangement from earlier.

It was an expected result considering how much Mount Lady and Midnight had been mean mugging each other all evening. They sat directly across from each other in suede armchairs with nothing but a glass table, and ostensibly everyone else, in between them. Lady at least feigned interest in the other women’s conversations, but Midnight hadn’t taken her eyes off the blonde too many times since she’d arrived. Had her Quirk involved any sort of heat vision, Ryukyu fathomed that Midnight was liable to melt Lady’s face off if she really wanted to, and she looked like she  _ really _ wanted to.

“So, what are you ladies on about now?”

“Waiting to see who’s gonna get stabbed first,” Ms. Joke chuckled, expectantly looking back and forth between the angry duo with wide eyes. Uwabami jabbed the jokester in her ribs.

“Pixie’s on her shit about finding a husband for, like, the fiftieth time today,” Mandalay groaned, “And I really feel like I’m going to explode if she talks about it any-fucking-more.”

“Well, forgive me for worrying about my posterity,” Pixie Bob huffed.

“You don’t have any posterity.”

“EXACTLY!”

Ragdoll chimed in with “Ryu-Bob, you’re only, like, thirty. Calm down.”

“According to the great sage,” Midnight said, pointing an accusing finger in Lady’s direction, “you might as well be as old as the Pyramids. Or is my old lady hearing screwing with me again? Because everyone knows that hearing is the first thing to go when you hit the ripe old age of thirty.”

Ryukyu hadn’t seen the infamous interview cat fight that lead to this bloodless grudge match of stares and snippy comments, but as long as they didn’t fuck up her furniture, she didn’t too much care about the verbal squabble, though she had to admit that watching was more than a tad funny.

“Ugh, you’re still pissed about that? It was, like, six months ago, get over it!”

“Ooooh, speaking of stuff that happened months ago,” Ms. Joke interjected, “Ryuko, did the niece listen to the interview? I forgot to call you after it aired. Was she happy?”

“Oh my goodness, she was absolutely overjoyed! She called me an hour later in tears. I’m really happy that I decided to do it.”

“Do what?” asked Ragdoll.

“Well, about two months ago Edge and I were on a podcast called  **_Bratfest at Tiffany's_ ** , it’s this cute little podcast where this twenty-something chick just talks about pop culture stuff she likes, and it happens to be one of my nieces favorite podcasts, and Edge also happens to be one of her favorite Heroes. We’d both been invited on, but listeners don’t know who gets invited to the podcast until it’s published. So, I told my niece, her name’s Miwa, that there was a special surprise on that episode and to make sure to listen when it went up. At first, the surprise was just that Edge was on and that I’d asked him to shout her out, but it got a little bit more wild than either of us were expecting. About half way through, when we were answering fan questions, one came in for Edge that asked if he would ever date a guy. Random as hell, I know, but nonetheless, the host asked it. And Edge just goes ‘Well, I  _ am _ bisexual, so yeah, I would and I have.’”

“What!? Edge is...I never would’ve guessed it’d be him,” Lady gasped.

“I always thought it would be Jeanist who’d come out first,” Ms. Joke mused.

“But doesn’t Jeanist have two little boys?” Uwabami asked.

“He does, and I’ll get back to that in a second. Anyway, the host was obviously very surprised ‘cause she just sat there for a solid five seconds and didn’t say anything, and I didn’t want Edge to feel out of place, even though he kinda said real nonchalant, so I was like ‘Hey, me too!’ and then another couple seconds of silence. It was lowkey hilarious.”

“Well, this is quite a story,” Pixie Bob chuckled, “But, what does it have to do with your niece?”

“The week before that she had told her parents that she was bisexual, and while it didn’t bother my sister much, because she knows I’m out, too, it didn’t go over too well with my brother-in-law, as you might have expected - that asshole. So, she had been in a bit of a slum and I thought it would cheer her up to hear her favorite Hero give her a shoutout. That question and Edge’s answer were just happy coincidences.”

The group let out a collective “wooow.” It wasn’t as if it was their first time learning that one of their fellow Heroes wasn’t straight, ninety-five percent of Fourth Kind’s Twitter feed was just pictures of his partner and their five puppies, two cats, and baby rattlesnake, and Kamui had a boyfriend  _ and  _ a girlfriend who both lived with him. Edgeshot, however, had always been a secretive little bastard. He wouldn’t even tell people little stuff like what his favorite color was, so the fact that he just dropped that bomb so easily really all you could say is “wooow.”

“Wait, so what’s this thing about Jeanist? I was just being funny, but was I on to something?” asked Lady.

“You thought he’d be the first to keel over from bein’ so old, right? ‘Cause those old thirties always gettin’ the best of us!” Midnight took another angry swig from the flask she’d whipped out from her jacket.

“Midnight, could you cool it for a sec?” Mandalay sighed. “We’re trying to gossip.”

“Could you guys just let me be salty? She basically called you guys old hags, too! Pixie knows how that feels.”

“Yeah, but could I be left out of this one?”

“Fine. Gimme these  _ hors d'oeuvres,  _ you guys aren’t gonna eat ‘em.”

“Oh my God!” Ryukyu shout-laughed, slightly frustrated, “Anywho, me and Edge had been friends-ish for a while before we went to on  **_Bratfest,_ ** and while he’s not one for spilling the beans on himself, it doesn’t take much for him to put any and everyone’s business out there. The dude’s a bigger gossip than all of us put together. I don’t even remember how we got to talking about Hakamata, but we were hanging out at Edge’s place, just shooting the shit, and Jeanist and his boys came up and Edge just blurted out ‘Did you know they have different mother’s?’  _ Oh, really?  _ Tell me more, and there was no shutting him up after that. He knows so much stuff, it’s wild.”

“Holy balls, Jeanist knocked up two different chicks?!” Joke damn near exploded. “That’s wild.”

“For a guy that’s all about being proper, that’s-that’s-that’s...somethin’,” Pixie Bob added.

“Wonder what he knows about Midnight,” Lady smiled. “I’m certain that the ‘sexy teacher’ schtick isn’t just an act. So, tell us, how many of your co-workers are you scr-”

“Fuck yoooouu!” Midnight chucked her flask straight at Lady’s forehead and flew straight over the table. She got a good chunk of hair before she and the blonde tumbled backward onto the floor.

“Ladies, stop it!”

“Kayama, put the lamp down!”

“Get off her!”

“You broke the leg off my chair!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied...uh...this second chapter is going up on June 6. LOL
> 
> The next chapter posting will be the day after pre-orders for the BNHA Big Threesome Zine close: August 16th


	3. Regalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nejire gets married and crowned Empress on the same day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Written for the **BNHA Big Threesome** zine_

Tamaki had attended his fair share of marriage ceremonies in his youth, and they had always been warm occasions: the air tinged with the smell of cooked meat marinated in spices, whole villages turning out to help decorate, cook, and clean, hours upon hours of dancing and singing, and brides in their embroidered robes that they’d spent months beforehand tailoring to perfection. A sense of warmth couldn’t help but worm its way into his heart whenever he attended a ceremony. It was comparable to that floating sensation one experiences in a pleasant dream.

So why, then, did his own wedding feel more like a waking nightmare?

Not that he wasn’t thrilled out of his mind; it was his wedding day after all. One of the most important days in any man’s life. It was just that the unshakable, everyday nervousness that permeated his entire existence bore down hard on him on this particular day. He’d contemplated seeking advice from his father or his married friends, but none were too apt to give adequate guidance on how to manage marriage to the ascending Empress. The only handful of men who contained that knowledge had long since past.

“Highness, are you sure you don’t need a moments rest?” The elderly Onca settled a hand on Tamaki’s quivering shoulder.

“No-no, I’m alright I can do this. I just...I...” His stammering echoed off the mosaic walls of the empty temple as if to remind him how nervous he sounded.

From the outside, the Temple of Pixys appeared simple, pure, and white, but the inside was as extravagant as the goddess herself. A simple rotunda with a small fountain at its center, its true marvel was the brilliant blue decor that adorned the inside of the sacred space. Alabaster and lapis swirled together into tremendous pillars, the domed ceiling twinkled as candlelight illuminated the sapphires and diamonds embossed in it. Always burning incense and the sloshing sounds of the river did wonders to ease the mind and senses.

Even though the ceremony itself was always a private affair, the expected muffled cheers of celebration of the crowds outside were absent. At any other time the otherwise serene temple would have been practically shaking from the sounds of drums and raucous stomping and singing and dancing in anticipation of the royal unity, but the sun had barely begun to peer over the horizon. The princess was never known to do things the proper way: instead of preparing for the Ascension Ceremony in the early hours, as was customary, as was scheduled for the day, she’d decided that somewhere in that time frame was ample opportunity for her and Tamaki’s wedding.

He’d practically been whisked off of his feet in the dead of night and brought to the holy site on the city’s Western bank without much warning or ceremony. For a moment, he feared he’d been targeted for execution by the Jubatus, the Imperial order of spies and assassins. He could never fathom why his mind leapt to such dramatic conclusions, but his final destination - and the anticipation of what would take place there - was more than enough to put him at ease.

That moment of tranquility was quickly usurped by whiteness as the Onca threw the veil back over his face. Tamaki didn’t have to utter a word to know that that could only mean one thing.

“Is that you, my darling?”

More than thankful that the marriage ceremony didn’t involve much standing as his knees were liable to buckle at the divine voice, Tamaki meekly replied, “Yes.” It was all he could muster. The atmosphere suddenly felt heavy. The sound of her inched closer and closer until Nejire took her place to kneel next to Tamaki at the fountain base.

The Onca waded into the fountain waters and spoke.

“The goddess smiles upon this union. Today marks the beginning of a new life for Your Highness and Master Amajiki. Step forward, so that you may be united and reborn in the waters of life.”

Nejire took her beloved’s hand in hers and stepped into the coolness of the fountain. Every part of her began to tingle; whether from the sacred herbs floating in the water or months of repressed desire she couldn’t tell. The waist high water took on a momentary comedy as she noticed through her veil the miniature Onca standing on a stool to keep from drowning in the holy well.

“Tamaki Amajiki, do you swear, beneath the moonlight of our Goddess Pixys’s birth, to honor this woman in all that you do and say, to love and protect her for as long as there is breath in your body?”

“I swear.”

“And you, Nejire Hadou, do you, as a woman, not as an Empress or princess, swear, beneath the moonlight of our Goddess Pixys’s birth, to honor this man in all that you do and say, to love and protect him for as long as there is breath in your body?”

“I swear.”

As Nejire uttered those fateful words, the Onca skillfully wrapped a ribbon around the joined hands.

“Be baptized in the waters of life and emerge as one.”

The bound hands were pushed down into the water, and their bodies followed. In the short moments that the couple were to sit beneath the ripples, Nejire dared a glance at her beloved. The white veil had lifted just enough to see that his skin was the same gorgeous amber that it had been when they were children. His black locks were still terribly disheveled, and his equally dark eyes were shut horrendously tight. Likely an adorable effort to keep from looking at her, lest he go blind - or simply panic from the sensation of having water in his eyes. How she couldn’t wait to laze about with him in the gardens and talk for hours and dispel all those silly superstitions.

The reverie was interrupted as Nejire and Tamaki were helped to their feet and out of the water by attendants. They took the drying towels perched perfectly atop the Onca’s head as soon as the ribbon was untwined from between them.

“Lift your veils and gaze upon your truest love.” Tamaki patted at his veil rather than his face more times than was necessary; he was still patting as Nejire called to him again.

“Darling, let me see your face.”

Tamaki held the towel in place. Even if the tales of blindness were only stories, he couldn’t bear to bring his hands down. He didn’t know or understand why he was so reluctant to look at her. Perhaps it had been the childhood of songs sang and secrets shared and promises made between he and a veil. Twenty years of two smiling voices speaking sweetness to each other without the constraint of beauty standards. No need for the pretense of titles nor a possibility of disappointment in him.

“ _Tamaki,_ you’re shaking again,” she laughed. “Silly boy, you have to meditate with me some day, and calm your nerves.”

Nejire took Tamaki’s veil in her hands, unwrapped the garment from around his nose and mouth, and took him by his wrists and brought his still tremblings fingers up to her ornately patterned covering. The most luxurious cobalt blue eyes met Tamaki when he finally removed the fabric from his wife’s face. Skin already as rosy as a baby’s became exceedingly more pink as Nejire cupped her second husband’s face in her hands and kissed him - finally!

A trail of fire ignited in Tamaki’s chest and ran up and down his spine as soon as their lips met. He pulled Nejire to his chest, wishing they could have remain frozen in the moment. Forever wrapped in each others warmth. Blessed by the goddess.

The toll that signaled the coming of the third hour forced them apart.

“Do you have to go?” Tamaki sighed.

“It’s alright. Come nightfall, it will just be us. Only a few hours.”

More attendants in white appeared from the shadows to usher the newlyweds out of the fountain and away from each other. Tamaki was taken to small drawing room to recollect himself and change into dryer, more proper clothes whereas his wife - his _wife_ \- had to be rushed back to the palace. Tamaki gazed on forlorn as Nejire, draped in white linens, was escorted from the temple.

* * *

The Ascension was a highly ritualistic ceremony whose works were known only to the Grand Onca and ascending Empress. For fifteen minutes, it would only be the two of them locked in the Imperial Shrine. It pained him that it had to be that way, but the Elders would never allow Mirio in. It was the one place he couldn’t follow her.

As if sensing his frustration, Nejire glanced over her shoulder at Mirio. It was the same look she would give him before they went off and did something inappropriate like switching the heads of the horse gods at the Dactyla Temple in Perisso (she, Mirio, and Tamaki had done so once when they were twelve, and the priests thought it was a horrible omen and fasted for two months; the Queen Mother was thoroughly outraged). The sly smirk in her eyes belied the regal elegance of the crimson and gold she wore.

The Grand Onca met them at the top of the stairs. Mirio and the guard detail that followed had to halt at the final step before the landing. That ground was holy. Unsullied. Bloodless. No place for a soldier.

Nejire was silently ushered further out of his grasp as the temple doors were shut and locked. For the next fifteen minutes - fourteen minutes and fifty nine seconds too long for Mirio’s taste - he would have to stand on those steps and wait. “It’s only a few moments, truly,” they said, but a few moments is all it ever takes.

Shaking such horrid thoughts from his mind, Mirio looked down at the crowd oddly arranged in a neat rectangular mold around the landing at the bottom of the grand steps. The space had cleared away for the royal palanquins that would usher Tamaki and Nejire back to the palace - one was offered to Mirio, but he’d insisted on leading the cavalcade. It was quite the clash of colors: the red and gold of the coronation procession mingling with the blue and white of the wedding parade. Mirio could imagine Tamaki behind the curtains fidgeting with his robes. The poor boy was always nervous about something. A bit of meditation would do him some good.

* * *

The Ascension Celebration slash reception stretched well into the night, but Nejire saw no end to the merrimaking coming anytime soon. The reception was supposed to be a moment for the bride and groom to reflect in silence rather than partying, eating, and drinking and carrying on with the rest of the city. Looking back, Nejire figured that having her wedding occur at the same time of her coronation was probably not the best decision she’d ever made, but for whatever reason people kept letting her make those sorts of calls. It would be a lesson to plan more accordingly, or to leave those decisions to the Master of Ceremonies as her mother had advised.

To think that she was so eager to wed a fidgeting ball of anxiety.

Tamaki was still messing with his robes, pulling the sleeves, pressing the non-existent wrinkles out of his shirt. Nejire giggled to herself. The two were seated upon a dais hidden behind a canopy of blue curtains, so even if there were wrinkles in his clothing no one would see them. She needed to figure out a way to get him to relax.

Suddenly, Nejire had a most excellent idea.

* * *

The Queen Mother hadn’t seen her daughter all day, and it was causing her quite a bit of grief. Of course, she just wanted to see her only child’s beautiful face, but also Nejire could not be left to her own devices too often or she’d wind up doing something incredibly inappropriate. Now that she had officially ascended to the throne her silly whims would have the weight of law behind them and the Queen rightly fretted what ridiculous things could happen because who else would propose a dragon petting zoo? _At least choose a species that doesn’t breathe fire, dear._

Sneaking behind the canopy, which shouldn’t have been possible since Mirio was always so vigilant, the Queen peered inside the curtains only to find Yuyu and Shindou, Nejire and Tamaki’s body doubles, sitting in the newlyweds stead.

“Wha—Yuyu, why are you here?” she whispered. “Where is my daughter?”

“Your Grace!” Yuyu gasped. She never moved to turn all the way around, but she turned her head just enough so her voice would reach. “This Empress is..uhm…” The Queen Mother’s expression automatically settled into its usual facade of annoyance in anticipation of more shenanigans.

Yuyu’s shoulders slowly tensed up near her ears. The Queen could see the faintest of pink creeping up Shindou’s neck. “The Empress and the princes have………...retired to the West garden for a uh... _meeeeeeeditating_ session.”

Yuyu could practically hear the Queen pinching the bridge of her nose as she released a heavy sigh of consternation.

“Oh, Nejire, honey, _whyyy?_ ”


	4. Everyday Universalism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick introductory lesson on the tenets of Cronianism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Written for Handshake Collaborations's zine/album **"Solar Sessions"**_

**EVERYDAY UNIVERSALISM**

_For People Who Don’t Like To Research_  

* * *

 

**EU Explains: Universalism Part 8: Space, Time, & God**

✐ By EU      Categories: EU Explains, Saturn      58 Comments      31 February 25XX

5 planets, a moon, and an asteroid belt later, and we’ve arrived at probably the strangest sector Universalist thought: what the fuck is up with Saturn? An excellent question, Internet lurker, that has had a few answers over the course of human history, but for the sake of this blog I’m going to keep my answer contained to information relevant to **Universalism** (since this is a blog about the religion).

**Overview Notes**

➔ Wibbly wobbly, timey whimey  
➔ The Huygens, Rhea Herschel, & the “Voice of Saturn”  
➔ Clay Kimberly & Adoption into Universalism  
     ◆ This basically explains why we journal and meditate so much  
➔ “Circles in the Stream”  
     ◆ A decent documentary for the pretentious asshats of academia; watch this if you hate reading

* * *

  **WHO & WHAT?     **That question actually has two answers (because of course it does). On the Old World, **Saturn** was a male agricultural deity who oversaw the harvest and wealth during the days of the Roman Empire, but on many space stations and remnant colonies in this here 24th century, Saturn (also known as the Voice) is the major temporal deity of Universalism. A lot of media created by **Late Terrans** who still follow faiths of the Old World incorrectly equate Saturn to the old notion of a “time traveler,” but in actuality Saturn is much more studious. She is the patron goddess of scholars, scribes, and record keeping; the galaxy’s historian. So, you see Saturn doesn’t so much travel through time as she does keep track of it.

If you’ve ever seen swirls or concentric ring patterns on anything representing Universalism: architecture, art, logos, and paper documents especially, the rings of the planet are where those symbols come from. The symbols serve as reminders of the cyclical nature of time as well as our duty and reason for writing out our histories: to educate but also to preserve the soul.

Think of it like the rings of a tree stump (word of the day for the nerds: **dendrochronology** ). Every piece of writing, every loop a single chapter in the long novel of the history of the universe.

* * *

  **WHEN & WHERE?     **“Where did you get those ideas from?” I hear you ask. Well, unlike the first part, there’s only one answer to this question, and it’s probably the strangest aspect of Universalism, as difficult as that may be to believe.

The origins of Saturn’s godhood actually predate what many understand to be modern Universalism. Other denominations that most people are familiar with, like the very prominent Jovians and Cythereans, originated in the 2200s, but worship of Saturn as a deity has beginnings in 2101, a full century previous.

The Huygens was one of the earliest deep space colonial fleets to depart from the Old World during the **Exodusting**. 3 years into its voyage, the fleet “disappeared” some miles outside of Saturn space.

After six months of no answers, on August 14, 2101, **N.U.C.S.** HQ received a transmission from the lunar colony Ganymede that the Huygens had re-appeared in the Encke Gap of Saturn’s rings ( & this is where shit gets funky). N.U.C.S. officials from Ganymede were sent to check on the state of the fleet and found all the mechanical and technical aspects at optimal operating capacity, however, the civilians were acting different. A series of interviews were conducted as a part of the investigation and that’s when the officers learned of the possible cause of the Huygens “disappearance.”

Apparently, the Huygens‘s captain, Rhea Herschel, had gone on a “journey of proselytism” after claiming to have heard the “voice of Saturn.” She’d begun experiencing intense ringing in her ears shortly after entering Saturn space and one day while replaying audio of the planet’s radio emissions captured by the ships outer satellites she’d temporarily turned off her cochlear implant to abate the noise, at which point she claims a voice spoke to her. Subsequently, she began a campaign to prove its existence to others aboard the ship, “targeting” people who’d been experiencing constant ringing in their ears and convincing them to participate in meditation sessions to “empty their minds of noise and fine tune their ears” before locking them in a soundproofed chamber she’d made in her home. By the time six months had passed, although not every person claimed to hear the Voice as clearly as Herschel did some 600,000 people - including crew members - had “converted” to a belief in a sentient planet that could speak to them.

 **Note:** _I’m adding quotation marks around overtly religious words because Herschel never claimed Saturn as a god in her lifetime, but this deliberately misleading language is partially what gets her demoted._

During the campaign, she neglected her duties as captain, one such task being regular status update transmissions to N.U.C.S. Prime on the Old World.

Though at the time the messages from the Voice that Herschel “preached” encouraged benign behaviors such as keeping timely records of one’s life to “preserve the soul”, whether written or digital, the Superintendents ultimate decision to demote Herschel from the rank of captain was due to neglecting her duty to “maintain order” and putting the Huygens off schedule.

Keirin, the officer (dick) who conducted most of the interviews, suggested that she be arrested or institutionalized, but the Superintendents ignored him. It would have seemed extreme given that the quality of life aboard the Huygens had not faltered while Herschel was AWOL.

Herschel would continue to teach the words of Saturn for nearly 20 years before tragically being killed during a bank robbery at age 64. There wouldn’t be another **Discerner** until 50-some-odd years later when Clay Kimberly of **Gen. Aster** came along. It was through her that we learned more about Saturn herself and the nature of the rings as a record of the history of the galaxy. It wouldn’t be until around 2188 that either would become venerated as religious figures of sorts within the burgeoning Universalist movement, but that’s a post for another day.

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**MINI GLOSSARY OF TERMS**

**Universalism:** A polytheistic religion originating in the 2200s that worships the planets of the Solar System as sentient deities.  
     ◆ Jovians  & Cythereans are followers of Jupiter and Venus, respectively.

 **Late Terrans:** The last living generations of humans who were over the age of 5 on Earth in 2215, when the final N.U.C.S. fleet, Exodus, departed the Old World.

 **The Exodusting:** The mass evacuation of humanity from the Old World after the planet sustained irreversible damage during Space War II.

 **N.U.C.S.** (pronounced nuhks): **N** ew **U** nited **C** olonial **S** pacy. Overseer of the lunar and remnant colonies and colonial fleets; replaced national governments of the Old World.

 **Discerner:** Followers of Saturn who hear Her voice most clearly of all Universalists and transcribe her histories into text.

 **Generation Aster:** One of the Cosmic Generations. The first social generation to all be born in space.

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